Catch A Falling Star
by Aini NuFire
Summary: Orphan Charlie leads an uneventful and lonely life, until she meets the infamous wizard Dean Winchester. Then she finds herself caught up in magic and spells when the jealous Witch of the Waste curses her into the body of an old woman. Can Dean, his brother Sam, and their fire demon Castiel help her break the spell? Or will the evil witch get her hands on her ultimate prize-Dean?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This fic is a SPN fusion with Howl's Moving Castle, movie version. If you haven't seen it, that's okay, because I'm mostly just borrowing some concepts and initial setup, and then the rest of the plot goes in a completely different direction. (But I also recommend the movie. And the book, though it's nothing like the movie either, haha.)**

 **Disclaimer: Neither of these worlds or characters are mine. Thanks to 29Pieces for beta reading! Cover art is one of my creations, though. You can see the full thing on my tumblr.**

* * *

Chapter 1

The blare of the end-of-shift horn ended the monotonous drone of sewing machines. There was a brief lull as everyone had to mentally shift out of the numbness of their tedious, repetitive work, and then the factory was filled with a cacophony of voices as people stood and began milling toward the exit. Snatches of conversations drifted across the floor of plans to go out for dinner or check out the fair. There was even to be a parade in celebration of the prince's birthday.

Charlie hung back at her station, waiting for the throng to leave before she finally gathered up her small lunch sack and turned the light over her sewing machine off. She hurried for the door and stepped out into the late afternoon sun. The streets bustled with foot traffic, from those in work drab to those dressed in fancy finery. Hats were the latest trend, and Charlie liked scanning heads in search of one she had made personally in the factory. There were templates to follow, but Charlie always added a little something extra to make each hat a one-of-a-kind. It made her feel like she was leaving a mark on the world, even if it was something most wouldn't notice.

But she was used to practically being invisible.

She made her way down the street, squeezing between bodies pressed too closely together as they got ready to watch the parade. Charlie slipped down a side alley where she had some breathing room, and came out on another street with a corner bakery. She stopped at the shop window to look at the tantalizing treats displayed inside. Everything was mouthwatering, from the lemon curd eclairs to the chocolate and raspberry petit fours. Every day after work Charlie would stop here and dream of buying just one treat. But as her hand folded over her dress and the few coins jangled in her pocket, she'd have to tear herself away with a sigh.

One day, she thought. One day she'd open her own hat shop and make dazzling, one-of-a-kind pieces that would be all the rage in town, maybe the whole country.

She continued on her way, heading toward the more run-down side of town near the train tracks where her modest flat was located. The crowd thinned out, and Charlie was able to slow to a more leisurely pace. She wasn't really in a hurry to arrive home where she'd spend the rest of the night cooking a meager dinner of rice and then going to bed so she could be up early the next morning to head back to work.

She rounded a corner and pulled up short at the sight of two men taking up the width of the alley. They immediately grinned upon seeing her.

"Hey, there," one said.

"Hi." Charlie tried to draw her shoulders back and walk right past, but the men stepped into her path.

"Where you headed?" the first asked.

"Please just let me pass," Charlie replied.

"Aw, come on," he cajoled.

The other man smirked. "You're scaring her."

He pressed a hand to his heart as though wounded. "You're not scared of me, are you, little mouse?"

When he leaned down to be closer to Charlie's eye level, she couldn't help but let out a nervous squeak and take a step back.

"Look, I just want to get through here," she said, mustering a smidgeon of bravado.

"Might not be safe for a little mouse like you to be walking alone," the man continued as though she hadn't spoken.

Charlie sucked in a deep breath, preparing to tell him off, when a displacement of air alerted her to someone coming up behind her.

"The lady said let her pass," a deep voice rumbled.

Charlie stiffened.

The men, however, instantly went from inconveniently annoying to visibly hostile.

"Mind your own business, buddy."

"Are these douchebuggies bothering you, sweetheart?" the newcomer asked, leaning down to Charlie's ear.

She could barely form a response. "Um…" She just wanted to go home.

One of the men took a menacing step forward, and the third guy flicked his wrist out at them. Suddenly they snapped to attention like soldiers. Sputtering, they pivoted sharply and started to march away, blustering invectives as they went.

Charlie chanced a look up at her rescuer. He had somewhat ruggedly handsome features, brown hair, and hazel green eyes that shimmered with flecks of amber. He wore dark garb that was simple in design but was made of the finest cloth.

Charlie's mouth continued to flounder wordlessly.

The man held an arm out. "Can I walk you home?"

Charlie found herself taking the proffered arm, though inside she was screaming that she shouldn't. What had just happened with those two guys? Had this stranger used _magic_?

He gave her a small smile and started walking. But then his other arm snaked around her waist to take her other hand, and Charlie gasped in surprise. Before she could protest, however, he pushed off the ground, and suddenly they were flying into the air. All the oxygen stole from Charlie's lungs, and it was probably good that she didn't scream.

They shot up above the buildings.

"Watch your step."

Charlie gaped at the ground below and flailed her legs, but it felt as though she was walking normally. Well, except the air beneath her feet was soft and it was more like hopping from air pocket to air pocket. And, despite the terror singing through her veins, a small part of Charlie found it incredibly breathtaking.

They traveled over the buildings, and at this point Charlie didn't even question when he brought her down on the roof of her flat.

"Um, thanks," she said.

He dipped his head in a nod. "You're welcome. Take care."

And with that, he was gone.

Still breathless, Charlie remained standing on the roof for several minutes in shock. Had that really just happened? Or had she dreamed it? But no, she felt like she was awake. Who was that? Could it have been… The wizard Dean Winchester was infamous in these parts, said to eat the hearts of pretty girls. He certainly hadn't tried to eat Charlie's heart. Maybe he knew a lonely girl like her with no family and no friends wasn't worth it.

Finally letting out a sigh, Charlie turned and made her way inside. But when she turned on the light of her flat, she stopped short. On her tiny kitchen table was a chocolate and orange eclair nestled inside a box from that one bakery. She whipped her head around in search of who had left it, but there was no sign of anyone.

Charlie wondered if she should be wary of eating it, but she could smell the pastry through the lid and her stomach rumbled in response.

"If he wanted to eat my heart, he probably wouldn't need to resort to poison first," she reasoned aloud.

Setting her lunch sack on the tiny counter, she retrieved a fork and went to sit at the table. The eclair didn't explode when she stuck the fork in it, and nothing weird fizzled on the air as she took that first bite.

It was heavenly.

Charlie hadn't eaten anything this delectable in her entire life, and she savored every bite.

When she went to bed, she fell into a restful sleep and dreamed of flying and mounds of desserts.

It was a shame when her alarm woke her the next morning. Even though last night had been real, it had just been a chance encounter that would never repeat itself. Today, Charlie would have to resume her mundane routine. But the memory still brought a small smile to her face.

She ate a quick breakfast of cold bread with jam, packed some cheese and crackers for lunch, and then hurried out the door. It was barely dawn, but there was enough light to see by on her walk to work. She'd only taken two steps, however, when a figure standing in the middle of the street made her pause.

The woman was tall and dressed in a long black dress with sleeves that barely hugged her mostly bare shoulders. Long brown hair cascaded down her front, and she was gazing at Charlie with a cool expression.

Charlie fidgeted uncomfortably. "Um, can I help you?"

"What a dump," the woman replied, curling her lip as she regarded the flat behind Charlie. Her gaze drifted back down. "But I suppose that is where garbage lives."

Charlie stiffened, her cheeks flushing hot as countless insults from her childhood came clamoring back in her head.

 _"You got no parents? So no one wants you."_

 _"You're trash."_

 _"Little orphan Charlie, left out on the street. Not even the garbage man wants to pick you up."_

Charlie drew her shoulders back. "There's a difference between living in squalor on the outside and living with a putrid heart on the inside."

The woman let out a soft chortle. "Standing up to the Witch of the Waste, that's plucky."

Charlie's blood ran cold. "The Witch of the Waste?" she gasped, and turned her head as though to run.

But the witch held out a hand, and columns of black smoke shot out and zoomed toward her. They surrounded Charlie in an instant—thick, cloying fumes that felt as though they somehow plunged straight through her body. Her lungs seized, and she dropped to the ground. Just when she thought she would suffocate, the smoke retreated.

"The best part of that spell is you can't tell anyone about it," the witch's voice echoed softly. "Give my regards to Dean."

Charlie continued to pant, curled forward on her knees on the cold ground. Everything ached and she couldn't seem to stop shaking. She tried to brace her palms on the cobblestone, and froze, the oxygen punching from her lungs.

"Wh-what?" she stammered, lifting her hands to examine them. _No. No, these couldn't be her hands_ … But her shaky fingers flexed and straightened at her direction, gnarled bones creaking with the movement. Her skin was heavily wrinkled with age spots discoloring it.

Charlie reached up to feel her face, and her heart started jackhammering even harder. She managed to stagger upright and stumbled to her door, catching her balance against it. And then she went rigid as she caught sight of her reflection in the metal panel of the next door building.

Except, it _couldn't_ be her reflection. Her face was worn and weathered, with crows feet around her eyes, and her once vibrant red hair was now dull gray. She was short to begin with, but now with her back hunched over, she'd lost a couple of inches.

"Okay," she breathed. "Stay calm. Stay calm."

How was she supposed to stay calm? her insides screamed at her. She'd just been cursed by the _Witch of the Waste_. Into…into…this!

A door slamming down the street had Charlie whirling around in terror. But it was just the silhouette of a man shuffling out, probably on his way to work.

Charlie realized she couldn't go to work. She couldn't let anyone see her like this. They'd freak out. But if she didn't work, she couldn't pay rent, and she'd be out on the streets to die of starvation or the cold when winter set in. What was she supposed to do? She had no one.

Her heart clenched as she realized all her dreams of a better future were now gone, snatched away by a madwoman for no reason that Charlie could understand, except that perhaps Fate was just cruel and liked tormenting her.

Charlie didn't know what she would do; all she knew was that she couldn't stay here, couldn't stay in the town. Heart pattering like a frightened rabbit's, she struggled to make it back inside her flat, grabbed her shawl and packed the rest of her scant food supplies, then turned back toward the door. She paused when she caught sight of the empty pastry box. Her heart gave a pang. At least she'd gotten to enjoy one good thing.

She exited the flat. Even though it was a dump, she mourned the loss of what had more or less been her home the past couple of years.

The sun was cresting the horizon now, and soon the town would be bustling with life again. Charlie tried to make her way down the streets quickly, but the fact of the matter was her body was just too decrepit to maintain that kind of pace. Her joints locked and she got winded so easily. It was full mid-morning by the time she crossed the bridge over the train tracks, the smoke from the departing engine billowing up and nearly choking her.

"Need some help there, ma'am?" a young man asked.

"No, thank you," she replied, cringing at the cracked warble in her voice. She hobbled her way down the stairs and onto the street again.

On the edge of town, the mountains in the distance loomed ominously, shrouded in mist. She found a horse-drawn cart of hay and asked the driver if she could get a lift, saying she was headed just a little farther than he was. He let her hop in the back.

The ride was bumpy and aggravated her aching bones, but it did save her a lot of time and walking when two hours later she was dropped off at the edge of the farmlands. Then she continued on foot from there.

It was much quieter out here, away from the town. Yet, somehow, Charlie didn't feel much more lonely than she had when surrounded by people.

She passed a farmer sowing a plot of land.

"Can I help you, ma'am?" he called.

Funny how age awarded you the respectful tag. And more notice, apparently.

"I'm just passing through," she replied.

He frowned at her, then looked toward the mountains. "Out there? Ma'am, there's only witches and wizards out in the Wastes. You don't want to go there."

Probably not, but maybe a small part of Charlie wondered if she could find that nice wizard again and if he could help her.

 _Foolish_ , she chastised herself. Wizards and witches were cruel and capricious ego-maniacs. She'd be better off never laying eyes on one again.

Yet still…

"Seriously, grandma," the farmer continued, sounding annoyed now. "It's foolish to go out there," he said, echoing her inner thoughts.

"I'm looking for my younger sister," she replied, and went on her way.

About midday she stopped to eat some crackers. Her meager rations weren't going to last her long out here. Neither was her thin clothing, even with the shawl; the wind was picking up and clouds were rolling in from the north. She'd be heading straight into the storm. But she couldn't turn back after how long it had taken her to come just this far. The town was even still in sight, though much smaller from her vantage point at the foothills. The thought of the barn she'd passed a couple of hours ago made her heart give a pang and her bones quiver. She bet it was nice and warm in there with the hay and thatched roof.

As the sun sank toward the horizon, roiling dark clouds billowed out above Charlie's head. The wind howled and a few spattering rain drops began to fall. Charlie pulled her shawl tightly about herself and hunched forward even more. This was insane. She was going to freeze to death out here if she didn't find shelter soon. But she was still in the foothills where there was nothing but rising slopes, nubby rocks, and plains grass.

Something groaned in the wind, and Charlie paused to tip her head back in search of lightning. But no, the noise sounded too low for that, too steady. Like the grinding of gears.

The ground gave a small vibration, and suddenly out of the misty rain, a ginormous moving contraption came lumbering straight toward Charlie. Her eyes blew wide, and she tried to dart out of the way, but something snagged her shawl and she was yanked backward. A gasp tore from her throat as she was nearly choked, but with another bump, she landed on her butt on a small platform with a railing. That's what had caught her shawl.

Gripping the iron balustrades for balance, she lifted herself up and worked the threads free of the exposed rod. But she still held on for dear life, because the contraption was still hobbling along. Wait a second…was this Dean Winchester's moving castle? Charlie had only ever heard rumors of it, of course, but now she was apparently standing on a tiny back porch with a door, and even a lantern hanging from a hook.

Terror seized her for a split moment. Sure, maybe the wizard had been nice to her for a brief moment, but that didn't mean he'd like her barging in on his home. On the other hand, Dean only ate the hearts of lovely girls, and Charlie was currently an ugly old hag.

The chill wind nipped at the hems of her sleeves and dress collar, piercing her down to the bone. Rain hammered down now, water leaking between gaps in the castle and dripping on Charlie's head. She couldn't go back out into the storm, and she couldn't stay on the landing all night, either. Guess she really only had one choice.

Taking a deep breath, Charlie gripped the doorknob and pushed it inward. She stumbled inside, hurrying to close the door behind her and shut out the raging wind and rain. As soon as she did, she was immediately greeted with a still silence, save for the soft crackling of a fire. Warmth folded around her, and Charlie hobbled up five steps into a large kitchen area. A sink and counters lined the right side, and to the left was a raised hearth, about three and a half feet off the floor. A soothing fire snapped and popped in the center.

"Oh," Charlie breathed. There was a chair next to the fireplace, and she removed her shawl as she eased her creaky body into it. She shivered as heat buffeted her chilled skin, and she found herself instantly drifting toward sleep…

"That's quite a curse you have there," a deep gravely voice spoke.

Charlie jerked upright, head whipping around and almost cricking her neck. But no one was in the room.

"Over here."

Charlie's eyes shifted to the fire, and gooseflesh ran up and down her spine as she saw two glowing eyes looking at her from within the flames. "Y-you're…"

"My name is Castiel."

"You're a- a…"

"Fire demon," he supplied.

Charlie let out a squeak.

The fire flickered and burbled. "You _did_ walk into a magical castle. What were you expecting?"

Charlie pressed her lips together tightly to keep from making another sound. Her skin crawled as the fire continued to stare at her.

"Let me guess, the curse also keeps you from talking about it."

She nodded mutely.

He made a thoughtful rumble that crackled. "Would you mind grabbing that piece of wood over there?"

Charlie started at the abrupt tangent, but automatically looked around for what he meant. She spotted some chopped wood on the floor and picked up a piece, careful not to get too close as she tossed it on the fire. Glowing bands of orange flame reached out like arms to wrap around the wood.

"Thank you."

Charlie wasn't sure what to say, but exhaustion was creeping in fast, and she started to sink back into the chair. She was in Dean Winchester's castle, and there was a fire demon less than three feet away from her. But she was so tired, and everything ached…

Charlie didn't even realize when she'd closed her eyes and sunk into a deep sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Sam woke to the light of dawn shining through his window, as he did every morning. The castle was quiet save for the faint creak of gears that kept it constantly on the move, a familiar, comforting thrum. Sam dressed for the day and headed downstairs, only to pull up short at the sight of an old woman sleeping in the chair by the fire.

"Uh, Cas, who is this?"

The fire in the hearth curled around a half burned log. "I don't know. She came through the door to the Wastes."

"The _Wastes_? What the hell, what if she's a witch?" he exclaimed.

"You think I'd let a witch in here?" Cas replied, sounding affronted.

Sam didn't know what to think. No, Cas would never let a witch get into the castle, but it wasn't like him to let random strangers come barging in, either. And what was an old woman doing in the Wastes anyway if she wasn't a witch?

The door ringer disrupted Sam's thoughts.

"It's the Kingsbury door," Cas said.

Gritting his teeth, Sam forewent the issue of this strange woman for the moment and went to answer the door. He descended the few steps and paused to turn the dial next to the door so it would open to the right place. He pulled the door inward, and immediately the sounds of a bustling street filtered in. On the doorstep stood a young girl with pigtails.

"Can I help you?" he said kindly.

"Please, sir, my mother is ill." She fidgeted nervously. "She said to come here for medicine."

"What is she ill with?"

"Fever and cough. It hurts her."

Sam nodded, already running through remedies in his head. "Wait right here."

He shut the door and turned back to the kitchen, going to the counter and picking out the selection of herbs and tonics he needed. He heard a harsh snore that sounded like the old woman was waking, and focused on finishing his task quickly. Once the elixir was made, he went back to the door and opened it, handing the vial to the little girl.

"She needs to take one teaspoon three times a day," he instructed.

The girl nodded and put a few coins in his palm. "Thank you." And then she hurried off.

Sam pocketed the money and turned back inside. The old woman was definitely awake and gaping at the door.

"Who are you?" he asked guardedly, shutting it.

"I-I'm Charlie."

"How did you get in here?"

"Um…" She darted her gaze to the fireplace. "Castiel let me in."

Sam gave Cas a look, to which the fire demon just ducked under the wood.

"I was hoping to find help," the woman continued. "You see I was…" She cut off with a garble as her mouth seemed to go slack, jaw moving sluggishly.

"Cursed," Cas supplied.

Sam frowned as he studied her more closely. There was a dark aura around her, inky threads woven in and throughout like a tangled tapestry. Sam grimaced. "Looks like a bad one."

Charlie managed to suck in a deep breath, and lowered her head demurely. "I don't have any money, but if you can help me, I could work off the debt."

Sam pursed his mouth. "I'll have to talk to Dean, but he's not here right now."

Charlie's eyes filled with panic for a brief second. "I could make you breakfast!" she blurted. "Really, I can be useful." She hobbled over to the shelves and started rifling through the myriad of objects, pulling out a plate of bacon.

"No, you don't have to—" Sam tried to protest, but Charlie shuffled back over to the fire, grabbing a pan on her way.

She wiped it clean with her sleeve and blew the lint off before lifting it toward the fire.

"Uh, that's not a good idea," Sam warned.

Charlie still wasn't listening. Sam didn't know if she was suffering from hearing loss with the rapid aging curse, or she was pointedly ignoring him.

"Hey," Cas groused as the pan was shoved over his face.

Sam bit back a smirk. If he had done that, he would have gotten a whiplash of fire across the back of his hand.

Charlie tossed the bacon into the pan and it quickly started to sizzle. It actually smelled pretty good, and Sam's stomach rumbled in anticipation.

The dial next to the door turned, and a moment later Dean came in, his black cloak billowing around him like liquid shadow.

He stopped and arched a brow. "Sammy, who is this?"

Charlie tried to straighten, though her bowed back didn't allow for it much. "My name's Charlie. I'm your new cleaning lady."

Dean shot Sam a look expecting an explanation.

"She's under a curse and could use some help," he replied.

Dean turned back to Charlie, eyes narrowed. His expression smoothed with realization and something else Sam couldn't quite decipher before it was replaced with a thoughtful pinch.

Dean walked over and deftly took the pan from Charlie. "Why don't you grab those eggs that are in the basket over there?" he suggested.

Charlie had frozen when Dean gently nudged her out of the way, but quickly recovered and went over to the counter where the basket was. Sam had forgotten there were even eggs in it.

She brought them back and stood there nervously as she handed Dean the eggs. He cracked them on the side of the pan, depositing the yolk into the sizzling center and then tossing the egg shells into Cas's open mouth. The fire demon chowed down on the scraps, and Dean even pitched him a bit of bacon as well.

Sam cleared space at the kitchen table, and once everything was done cooking, they all sat down. Sam searched for some silverware, and was slightly embarrassed when he could only find a few. He held out a fork and two spoons for Charlie to pick first.

"Sorry, uh, these are the only ones that are clean."

Maybe they could use a cleaning lady…

Charlie looked at the silverware dubiously before picking a spoon.

Sam handed the fork to Dean and kept the other spoon for himself, and dug in heartily. He loved hot meals, and wished he and his brother did this more often. But their lifestyle of honing their magic craft and hunting monsters usually left little time for slowing down and appreciating nice things.

Sam had only taken a bite before Dean looked across the table at Charlie.

"Charlie, what do you have in your pocket?"

She paused with her spoon halfway to her mouth. Looking confused, she reached down to pat her dress, frowning as she apparently felt something. She pulled out a folded piece of paper.

"Oh."

"Give it to me," Dean said, holding out his hand.

Sam also looked on in confusion as Charlie held the paper out to him. The moment his finger brushed one corner, however, it burst into flame. Dean and Charlie both yanked their hands back as the paper fell to the table and disintegrated. A symbol scorched its way into the wood.

Sam jumped to his feet. "That's dark magic."

"Yeah," Dean said, staring at the smoldering symbol pensively. "'Dean Winchester, one who caught a falling star, your heart will soon belong to me,'" he read.

Sam's blood ran cold at the familiar threat. "The Witch of the Waste?"

Dean hummed in agreement. "That can't be good for the table." He leaned forward and held his hand over the mark. The air grew staticky, tickling Sam's hair, as Dean called up his magic. The symbol crackled and popped, and then vanished.

He sat back in his chair. "The mark may be gone, but the magic remains."

Sam couldn't help but shoot an accusatory glare at Charlie. "Are you working with the Witch of the Waste?" he demanded.

Charlie drew her shoulders back. "Of course I'm not working with that witch! She's the one who…" Her jaw snapped closed and her cheeks puffed red as she heaved garbled noises against the roof of her mouth.

"She's the one who cursed you," Dean concluded.

Charlie looked as though she were trying to nod, but only ended up thrashing her head back and forth, her eyes watering with anguish.

Sam instantly felt remorse for snapping at her, and retook his seat. "Okay, easy, easy," he soothed, reaching out to gently touch her arm. "It's gonna be okay. Dean and I will do what we can to help you." He shot a look at his brother for confirmation; Dean didn't contradict him.

Charlie was finally able to open her mouth again and gasped in several ragged breaths. "Thanks," she whispered, voice croaking. "And I will pay you for it." She ducked her gaze contritely. "You do look like you could use a cleaning lady."

Sam's lips quirked; he kinda had to agree with her.

With a glance at Dean and Cas, they all silently agreed to let Charlie stay.

* * *

After breakfast, Dean excused himself to the upstairs, leaving the others to figure out what to do. Charlie was directed to take a seat in the chair by the fire again.

"So…that's Dean Winchester," she said.

The other young wizard—at least Charlie assumed he was also a wizard—smiled. "Yeah. And I'm Sam. Sorry I didn't introduce myself before." He retrieved a small journal from a shelf and a pen before joining her.

He towered over Charlie when she could stand at her full height; in her current state she felt even more intimidated by his looming presence.

"I'm not gonna bother asking you questions because I know you can't answer," he said kindly. "I'm just gonna try to get a sense of the magic that was used."

Charlie tried not to fidget as Sam walked around her to scrutinize her from different angles, squinting at her intensely and jotting down notes.

"I'll have to research the spell that might have been used," he went on, then hesitated. "I can't promise we can reverse it."

Charlie shrugged one shoulder heavily. "I probably figured that, but I appreciate you trying. Um…"

Sam paused in his notes. "What?"

Charlie glanced toward the stairs, though she couldn't hear anything above the bottom floor. "You both seem nice, but…well, I mean…you're not gonna help me just so Dean can eat my heart, are you?" She cringed at herself for saying that.

Sam let out a soft snort, and the flames in the fireplace puffed slightly with what sounded like a huff from Castiel.

"Dean leaves a trail of broken hearts wherever he goes," Sam said. "Not quite the same as eating them, but I can understand how the rumor got started."

"Oh." Charlie averted her gaze, feeling silly. "And you and him are…?"

"Brothers. Both wizards, though Dean is more powerful."

Charlie canted her head in curiosity. "Oh, how come?"

Sam grew silent and didn't answer. After a moment, he closed his journal. "I'll start looking into that spell."

Charlie watched him retreat, feeling as though she'd said something wrong. Apparently wizards were secretive and cryptic by nature.

Well, she supposed if Sam was getting to work looking for a counter-curse for her, it was time for her to get started cleaning. She rolled up her sleeves and went searching for a mop and bucket. They were as filthy as the rest of the castle, and she had to wash them out first.

Driven by inquisitiveness, she decided to start with the upstairs to see what it was like. The hallways were dark and every corner thick with cobwebs. She peeked into a bathroom and almost quit right then and there. Charlie definitely had her work cut out for her, especially with bones that creaked and gnarled fingers that spasmed on occasion, but she was used to hard work and would not be deterred.

It was strange—from the inside, the castle had normal turns and walls, but from the outside the giant contraption had looked like a mishmash of architecture. Guess that was magic for you.

Charlie scrubbed the bathroom until her back ached, and the smell of damp soap and mildew became suffocating. She struggled over to the window and unlatched it. The frame was stuck, and she nearly wrenched her back out finally getting it open to let in some fresh air.

Charlie clutched the windowsill in astonishment as she got a sweeping view of a valley below, trees moving along as the castle lumbered up the side of a mountain pass. Crisp air wafted in, and the sun glanced off pine and exposed mountain shale in golden shards.

Charlie leaned back and shouted, "Castiel, are you doing this?" she exclaimed. The fire demon didn't answer, but it had to be him. A grin broke out on her face as she took in the amazing landscape. "Castiel, I like your spark!"

There was a whistle from a steam pipe protruding from the outside of the castle above, and Charlie could have sworn it sounded like a crow of delight.

Beaming with lifted spirits, she returned to her work.

* * *

Castiel sat nestled in the fireplace, watching Charlie as she bustled about the kitchen, washing dishes and wiping down the counters, organizing things. Dean had told him how he'd saved a red-headed girl from some bullies the other night, and that the Witch of the Waste must have found out and become jealous, and that's why she'd targeted the poor girl. The curse was strong, too; Castiel wasn't sure Dean would be able to break it.

Charlie kept throwing nervous glances his way, and Castiel realized he'd probably been staring a little too much. They never had visitors and he never left the hearth, so the whole situation was new for them both.

"It will be nice to have a shine to this place," he commented, trying to make conversation to put her at ease. "Sam and Dean are such slobs."

Charlie put one hand on her hip and wiped her sweaty brow with the back of the other. "You'd think wizards would just…magic everything clean."

"Magic doesn't work that way."

She turned to consider him. "How does it work?"

"For every magic spell there is a give and take," he explained. "For good magic, the give and take is equal, and therefore not harmful. For other kinds, though, like dark magic, there is a price."

"Shouldn't that mean the Witch of the Waste will…" Charlie seemed to catch herself and clamped her mouth shut. "Shouldn't karma be a bitch?" she asked instead.

"The Witch of the Waste has paid for her descent into darkness," Castiel said gravely. "She just doesn't know it anymore."

Charlie fell quiet, hands shaking with brimming anger, and went back to cleaning. She worked her way all down one side of the room, and then turned her attention toward the hearth. Castiel was confused at first when she tied a handkerchief around her mouth and nose and grabbed a bucket to set on the chair, but then she was taking hold of the piece of wood he was currently simmering on top of and lifting it up.

"Charlie, what—what are you doing?" he exclaimed in alarm.

"That fireplace is filthy," she said.

Castiel hung on for dear life as she lifted him from the hearth and swung him over the open air, finally resting the piece of wood across the top of the bucket.

"Charlie—"

She picked up a scraper and started shoveling out the massive pile of ash into a large trash sack.

Castiel dangled from the piece of wood, arms scrabbling to maintain purchase. But without the wood underneath to support him, his flame was swiftly dimming.

"Charlie. Charlie! A little help here!"

But Charlie was too focused on her task, coughing into her mask as the ash billowed in the air.

Castiel tried to claw his way back up, but he lost his grip and fell, landing with a whoomp and snuffing out into darkness.

The next thing he knew, warm hands were scooping him up and cradling him close. Energy tingled along his numb extremities, and then a puff of breath fanned his flame, and he was able to open his eyes.

Dean tossed some fresh firewood onto the hearth and set Castiel inside it. His spark still flickered shakily, and Dean held his hands over Castiel, helping him settle down until he sank into a steady simmer again. Castiel relaxed in the gentle embrace. He hadn't had such a close call in a very long time.

Charlie had her back to them as she tied the trash sack closed, but then turned around and let out a small meep.

"I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't torment my friend," Dean said.

Charlie shot Castiel a startled look. "Oh, sorry," she said, sounding chastised.

Dean finally stepped back now that Castiel was secure once more. He turned to Charlie. "Don't get carried away." Then he left out the door.

Charlie visibly deflated. "Sorry, Castiel. Are you okay?"

He was now. Still feeling disjointed, however, he snuggled tighter around the fresh fuel. "This time. But if I die, Dean dies too."

Charlie frowned. "What?"

Castiel grimaced. He shouldn't have said that. "Our magic is tied together," he tried to explain vaguely.

Charlie looked thoughtful. "But not with Sam?"

"No."

"Is that why Dean's more powerful?"

Castiel hesitated for a beat. "Yes…"

Charlie gave him another contrite look. "I'm sorry, Castiel. It won't happen again."

Castiel let himself breathe out in relief. He knew Charlie hadn't meant to almost extinguish him. But he couldn't stand the thought that Dean could have easily died in a moment of carelessness, and then Sam would be left alone. Those two boys meant everything to Castiel.

"It's alright," he said, seeing the devastated look on Charlie's face, which the curse seemed to find energizing, as she almost appeared to wither a bit more before Castiel's eyes.

He frowned as he watched her return to cleaning, no longer with a bounce in her step. That was definitely a mean curse, and Castiel hoped the Winchesters found something to help her soon…


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thank you guests Kathy and shazza19 for your reviews! I'm glad you're enjoying this.**

* * *

Chapter 3

Sam flipped through the pages of the magic book he was currently consulting on aging curses. It'd only been a day that he'd been researching, but that didn't lessen his frustration at not having found anything remotely helpful yet. Charlie was going to have the entire castle spotless and shiny before he made any headway.

He sensed Cas bringing the castle to a stop, and glanced out his window in curiosity. Usually they kept on the move. He saw a corner of a misty mountain range and hillsides awash with gold and carmine blossoms. Standing up to get a better look, he confirmed his suspicion that they had stopped at Star Lake.

Movement on the ground below caught his eye, and Sam leaned against his windowsill to see Charlie dragging out the hamper piled high with their dirty clothes. He left the books behind, deciding to take a break and help her out.

He jogged downstairs, waving at Cas as he passed and headed out the door. Charlie was still struggling with the large basket, and Sam quickened his pace to catch up to her.

"Here, let me get that," he said, taking the handles from her and lifting the hamper easily into his arms.

"Oh, thanks."

They made their way toward the shore. Sam had to consciously slow his gait to a painstaking crawl in order for Charlie to keep up. When they reached the water's edge and Sam set the basket down, Charlie lowered herself to her knees with several grunts that made Sam grimace.

"Um, maybe I should do the laundry."

"No, no, it's okay," she said. "I can do it."

Sam suddenly wondered what kind of backbreaking work she'd already done inside the castle. He needed to work faster on finding a counter spell.

But for the moment, he knelt down and helped her do the laundry. When everything was washed and rinsed of suds, they strung up a clothesline from one end of the castle to the other and pinned up the clothes to dry.

It was a nice day, so Sam suggested they have lunch outside. Charlie looked taken aback, but then a gleam of awe entered her eyes and they headed back into the castle to get everything they'd need. It took two trips, but Sam carried out a small work table and two wooden chairs while Charlie packed bread, cheese, and some fruit into a basket to bring out.

"It's so beautiful here," she commented as they ate.

Sam smiled. "Yeah. It's my favorite place out here in the wilds. Peaceful."

"Why don't you stay here? Seems like it'd be a lovely place to live."

He shrugged. "The rest of the Wastes are dangerous. And there are other reasons we have to keep moving."

Charlie didn't seem to know what to say to that. "Do you have family somewhere else?"

"No, it's just me and Dean. And Cas. Has been for many years."

Charlie sank back into her chair. "You're lucky."

Sam frowned. "Don't you have family waiting for you back home?"

She shook her head. "No, no family. No one." She shrugged one shoulder. "So if you can't undo the curse, it's not like anyone would miss me."

"That's not true," Sam immediately replied, then quipped, "I'm gonna get pretty spoiled having a tidy house. You might have to stay on long term."

Charlie's lips quirked, but then she grew somber and quiet as her gaze drifted out over the lake. The setting sun lit the surface like ripples of fire, radiating through the vibrant hillside. Her eyelids slowly slid closed.

Sam tucked her shawl up around her shoulders, then quietly went about taking down the laundry and folding it in the hamper. He packed away the leftover food and brought the table back inside the castle.

Lastly, he went back out and gently lifted Charlie into his arms, and carried her inside as well. She made a snuffling sound, but didn't wake, and Sam tucked her into the small nook in the back of the kitchen they'd converted into a makeshift bed. He exchanged a look with Cas, who was simmering bright and hot and would keep the room warm enough throughout the night.

Then he went back upstairs and settled in for a long night of research.

* * *

Dean soared over the countryside, massive black wings cutting through the midnight sky like liquid shadow. The wind buffeted his face but streamlined down the rest of his transformed body, melded into a bird's narrow torso and tail feathers for quick maneuvering.

Dean gave a hard flap and banked sharply, careening toward the earth. In the sky across from him, a dark shape came hurtling toward a town. Dean tucked his wings in tighter, and snatched the beast out of the air with his talons. Its shriek rattled his eardrums, but he held on as they grappled mid-plummet. Leathery wings flapped frantically, thwacking his face, and claws scrabbled for his side.

Dean hissed as two raked through feathers and flesh. He twisted around, catching the monster's red eyes with his own, and let his magic explode outward. The beast screeched as it was blown to ash and dust.

Dean banked into an updraft only a few seconds before he would have hit the ground, and soared back into the sky. Another town saved. He turned toward home.

The night wrapped around him like a cloak, and he closed his eyes, summoning up the castle's door in his mind's eye. It appeared like a mirage in the sky, and Dean slowed his flight, spreading his wings and letting his bird's feet turn back into human legs. He hovered in the air, gravity nullified, and reached out to turn the doorknob.

He was instantly greeted with the crackle of fire and scent of sage and vanilla as he stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. He slogged up the few steps into the kitchen, wings trailing in his wake. Every muscle in his body hurt, and he sank into the chair by the fireplace, propping his feet up on the hearth and leaning his head back. He took a moment to catch his breath, and then gritted his teeth as he focused on fully transforming back. The wings morphed into arms, and the feathers around his face slithered back under his skin.

Dean sagged harder in the chair, panting.

"Dean," Cas spoke after a long moment.

Dean could hear the reprimand and concern, but ignored it. Cas, of course, wasn't going to let it go.

"You shouldn't keep doing that," he said. "One day you might not be able to change back."

"I need to in order to hunt some of these monsters," he countered wearily; it was a tired argument. And he knew the risks, but judged that it was worth it to stop creatures that would otherwise be terrorizing villages and towns. Someone had to keep the country safe from them, and Dean had the means.

"And what happens if you become the monster you're hunting?" Cas rejoined. "Some of those demons used to be wizards."

"Has Sam made progress with Charlie?" he asked, pointedly changing the subject.

Cas let out a small huff. "No. But he's still researching. He only fell asleep at his study table an hour ago."

That was Sam. Dean was probably gonna have to shorten his hunting trips and keep an eye on his little brother, make sure Sam didn't run himself into the ground.

Cas sighed, but then seemed to perk up as he reached out to grab a piece of firewood from a stack on the edge of the fireplace. "Look at this," he said excitedly. "Charlie put these here for me."

Dean's mouth curved up into a soft smile, and his gaze shifted to the nook in the corner where a small body slept soundly under a quilt. "She's a clever kid."

Cas's aura sobered. "What if we can't help her?"

Dean didn't answer. He refused to believe that was even an option. Charlie had been cursed because of him, and he had to fix it.

He finally pushed himself out of the chair, biting back a groan. "Night, Cas."

"Goodnight," Cas said softly as Dean trudged upstairs.

Maybe morning would bring them new hope.

* * *

It was a lot of grueling work, but over the next few days, Charlie had gotten the castle into tip-top shape. Not that her work was then finished; she had quite the set of chores simply to maintain the place, what with the Winchester brothers' remarkable disregard for putting things back in their proper place and tracking mud in, or falling asleep at the study table and letting the candle die down so that the wax spilled over onto the floor.

Charlie didn't begrudge the labor, though. Sam and Dean always had a kind word for her and thanked her for the things she did to make their lives easier. Castiel made for a companionable presence in the kitchen, even when they didn't fill the silence with conversation. At night, Charlie would collapse onto the small mat in the nook, exhausted but oddly content.

Then Sam and Dean announced they were ready to try some counter spells. Charlie tried not to get her hopes up; she was used to disappointment and the best way to prepare for it was to just not have any expectations.

Sam pulled the chair by the fireplace out into the middle of the room and gestured for Charlie to sit in it. Her joints creaked as she eased herself down, wringing her hands together in anxious anticipation.

"Will it hurt?" she couldn't help but ask. The putting on of the curse had been painful; she didn't see why removing it wouldn't also be such.

The Winchester brothers paused and exchanged a look.

"Uh, hopefully not," Sam replied, but his tone suggested he didn't know for sure.

Charlie inhaled sharply and clenched her hands tighter as they began to shake.

Sam and Dean moved to stand in front of her, Sam holding up an open book for Dean to look at.

Dean cracked his knuckles. "Right, let's do this."

He stretched out a hand toward her, flattening his palm vertically. The air grew staticky and the loose folds of Dean's shirt began to billow. Sam's hair rose ethereally off his shoulders. Charlie stiffened instinctively at the strong tang of magic suffusing through the room, and had to remind herself that they were trying to help her.

She felt a pressure push against her chest, then again a little harder. It rebounded back, and in another few moments, the air settled and Dean lowered his hand, mouth pressed into a thin line. Charlie glanced down to find she was still in an old woman's body.

"Let's try this one," Sam said, setting the one book aside and quickly picking up another from the table. He held it for Dean to look over, and then both wizards were making movements in the air with their hands, like they were drawing invisible symbols.

Charlie held herself rigidly still as her skin tingled and her ears popped. She stared at her hands, waiting, but their wrinkled and spotted appearance didn't change.

Dean let out a soft curse under his breath.

"Okay, um, I've got one more," Sam said with forced optimism.

Charlie had already started to hunch forward in her posture, and she barely paid attention to the spell work the brothers attempted this final time. She still felt heavy and stiff, bowing under the force of gravity and other things more metaphysical. She supposed her outward appearance now appropriately matched the state of her heart—beaten down and worn from too many burdens for its young age.

"I'm sorry, Charlie," Sam said, sounding truly grieved. "I can keep looking for more counter spells."

"It's okay," she said, voice crackly. "I appreciate you trying."

She slid off the chair and clutched her hands close to her chest. She supposed she needed to think about what she would do next. Her situation hadn't changed—she still had nowhere to go to live out the rest of her drastically shortened life. Maybe she could continue to stay in the castle and keep it clean in exchange for room and board…

"We're probably better off going straight to the source," Dean commented.

Charlie quirked her brow in confusion, having lost the topic amidst her tumultuous thoughts.

Sam's expression turned wary. "Meaning what?"

"I can confront Amara, convince her to remove the curse."

"No!" both Sam and Castiel protested at the same time.

Charlie frowned. "Who's Amara?"

"She's the Witch of the Waste," Dean explained. "I'd once felt an attraction to her, but broke away when I realized there was only darkness inside her soul."

"She's too dangerous to approach," Sam continued.

"Not to mention completely unreasonable," Castiel added.

Dean flashed a cocky grin. "Maybe I can be persuasive."

"The only thing that witch wants is you," Castiel said darkly. "Putting yourself in danger isn't going to help anyone."

"I'll be careful."

Dean turned, snatched his coat off the coatrack, and headed for the door.

"Dean, wait," Charlie called.

He paused to throw a look over his shoulder. "What?"

"Don't do this. Don't risk yourself for me." She lowered her head. "I'm not worth it."

There was a beat of silence, then, "Charlie."

She lifted her gaze to his.

"You are."

And with that, he slipped through the door into blackness, leaving Charlie standing in the middle of the kitchen under a barrage of emotions she didn't know how to name.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thank you guests Kathy and shazza19 for reviewing again!**

* * *

Chapter 4

Sam knew why his brother needed to go confront Amara, but he wished he'd gone with him. The Witch of the Waste was treacherous, and even though Dean had broken away from her influence a while ago, there would always be that lingering connection between them that she would try to exploit. Sam should have gone as backup.

But that might also prove to be a distraction if Dean was worried about watching out for Sam in the face of the wicked witch. Plus, someone needed to stay with Charlie, and Cas was hearth bound. Sam knew Cas hated not being able to go with Dean to help, too.

And so, like many times before, they were left at home to sit and wait for Dean to hopefully return safely. At first, Charlie puttered around the kitchen, washing the dishes from that morning and reorganizing the spices on the shelves. Sam sat down to once again pore over his magic books to see if he'd missed something when researching the counter curses. Cas simmered low in the fireplace, subdued.

Charlie eventually gave up cleaning things that weren't even in disarray and sat down at the table with Sam. Lunch time came and went, but no one suggested fixing anything.

As the afternoon rolled into evening, however, Sam finally got up and started putting together something for dinner. He wasn't really hungry, but they should eat, and have something ready for when Dean got back. He'd definitely be hungry…

Sam peeled some potatoes and sliced them up. He chopped some carrots too and threw them in a pot, which he filled with some water and spices, and stuck in the fireplace next to Cas. Cas didn't even grumble about it, and just silently slithered over to wrap around the cauldron and start heating it up. Sam found some cured ham and added that to the stew.

"He's been gone a really long time," Charlie spoke up.

"He might just be having a hard time finding Amara," Sam said. He ignored the wry look Cas flashed his way.

"You said the Witch of the Waste wants Dean, though," she went on. "Why?"

Sam shrugged. "She's attracted to power. And she's never gotten over his rejection."

"Because she's insane," Cas muttered.

Sam didn't disagree. He swept up the potato peelings and tossed them to Cas, who munched them down.

Charlie was quiet for a moment. "You said Dean was powerful. Is he more powerful than her?"

Sam and Cas exchanged a look. That was a question they didn't really have an answer to, as Dean had yet to fully test himself against Amara.

And hopefully today would not be that day…

The dial on the door clicked and turned, and Sam whipped his head toward it as the door opened and Dean strode inside.

"Dean!" Sam exclaimed in relief.

His brother cracked a smile, glancing between him and Cas. "You look worried, fellas."

Sam just shook his head. "You're okay?" he checked.

"Fine."

Charlie pushed herself up from the bench. "Did you find the Witch of the Waste?"

Dean's expression sobered. "Yeah. She claims not to know how to remove the curse. Said she's more into casting them than removing them."

Charlie nodded like she'd been expecting that.

"Did she try to cast anything on you?" Cas asked.

"She tried, but I was faster. Relax, guys, I'm fine."

Sam let out a breath of tension. At least Dean was good at getting away when he chose to, and Sam was especially glad his brother hadn't tried to fight it out with Amara.

Dean gave Charlie a regretful look. "I'm sorry I couldn't bring back the cure for you."

Her face reddened. "Oh, it's okay. It was nice of you to try."

"We'll keep looking for something," he promised.

Charlie shook her head. "No, you don't have to do that. But, um, I was wondering if…maybe I could stay on as your cleaning lady?"

Sam's heart broke at the desperate plea in her frail voice.

Dean's expression also looked pained. "Yes, Charlie, you can stay," he said softly.

She offered up a wan smile. "Thank you." And then she excused herself to retreat to the small nook in the far corner where she climbed into bed, turning over to face the wall.

Dean sighed.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked again, keeping his voice low.

"No." Dean ran a hand over his hair. "It's my fault this happened to her."

Sam hesitated a moment before asking curiously, "Why did you make the spectacle with her in the first place?" Really, it wasn't typically his brother's style.

Dean shrugged one shoulder. "She looked like a lonely kid who needed someone to smile at her without wanting something." He lowered his head. "I remember how that was, except I had you."

Sam didn't say anything; he understood. "So what do we do now?"

Dean pursed his mouth as his expression turned pensive for a few moments. Then, he squared his shoulders. "We do some house cleaning."

* * *

The next morning, Dean was up bright and early (for him), and he headed downstairs with intentional perkiness in his step. Charlie and Sam were already up eating breakfast, and of course Cas never slept.

Dean clapped his hands together enthusiastically and declared, "It's moving day!"

Charlie paused with a spoonful of porridge halfway to her mouth. "Huh? You- you're leaving?"

"Not exactly," Sam said. "We're just going to relocate the doors."

"Oh." Charlie still looked confused, though. "Why?"

"It's good to shake things up every once in a while," Dean replied. "Plus, after meeting with Amara, she's probably closer to closing in on us, so it's better we move anyway."

Charlie's expression pinched. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disrupt your lives so much."

"Charlie, no," Sam exclaimed. "We're not doing this because of you."

Dean kept his mouth shut, because technically they were, just not for the reasons Charlie was assuming.

"We move every few years or so," Sam went on. "It's just part of our lives."

"Oh. Okay." Charlie looked mildly reassured, which Dean supposed was the best he was going to get for now.

"Finish up," he told her. "This is going to get bumpy."

She hurriedly shoveled down the rest of her breakfast while Sam grabbed some chalk and started drawing a sigil on the wood floor. Dean moved the chairs out of the way and retrieved a shovel from the closet. Charlie finished her meal and dropped the bowl in the sink, turning to regard them curiously.

"Everything ready?" Dean asked.

Sam got up off the floor. "Yup." He turned to take Charlie's hand and helped her up to sit on the kitchen table, taking a seat beside her so their feet were off the ground.

"Okay, then." Dean turned to the fireplace and slid the shovel under Cas.

"Careful," Cas said nervously as Dean lifted him out.

"I gotcha."

Dean stepped into the middle of the sigil. With one hand holding Cas out in front of him, he spread his other out to the side. And then he took in a deep breath, opening himself up to connect with Cas's magic. The bond between them flared with increased strength as Cas tapped into Dean's innate magical talent as well. Static crackled on the air, and then Cas erupted into a raging blue fire that billowed nearly to the ceiling as his dormant power was unleashed. Cas let out a whoop at the surge, and Dean closed his eyes at the headiness of such magnified power.

He quickly got it under control, though, and focused his intent on the space around them. Not just the castle, but also time and space miles away as he found a place to settle one of the door anchors. He projected his intentions to Cas, who took the direction and wielded his magic accordingly. The walls twisted and contorted, pushing out a few feet to expand the kitchen. The front wall bulged outward into a bubble before popping into a nook window. Drawers and shelves flipped back and forth as they rearranged themselves around each other. Dean extended his magic to encompass the building in the town of Lark's Landing that would be one of their new base points.

Finally, he was done, and he drew back, letting the magic recede. Cas collapsed down to a small fireball again, his flames flopping to the sides as he went wobbly with exhaustion.

"Good job, buddy," Dean said, setting him gently back in the hearth. He grabbed two pieces of fresh fire wood and tucked them around Cas so he could simmer and recover.

Sam helped Charlie off the table, both of them gazing around and taking it all in. The kitchen was much brighter now that sunlight streamed through the panoramic window at the front. Dean had kept one bench, but replaced the other with two more proper chairs for the lot of them to eat around the table in. All the shelves and cupboards had gotten a new polish so that the wood grain was rich and deep and soaked in the light pouring over them. An area rug now covered the floor, and the nook in the back was now a reading alcove with bookshelves built into the crannies.

Dean took Charlie's hand and led her toward a door that was now set next to the nook. Inside was a brand new addition to the castle.

"Here's your room," he said proudly.

Charlie let out a surprised gasp. "Oh. You didn't have to…"

"That nook wasn't a proper bed," Dean interrupted. "And with how hard you work here, you need a decent mattress. It's practically foam."

Charlie turned in a slow circle. "It's so pretty," she breathed.

The bed had a nice purple quilt on top, and sheer curtains hung over a window that overlooked the mountains. A small vanity sat along one wall, and there was a sink and basin in the corner with fresh flowers in a thin vase placed on the porcelain. There were other delicate things decorating the room that were fit for a lady, and Dean watched Charlie's visage begin to shift as her wrinkles slowly smoothed out and she stood a little straighter.

"Is it okay?" he asked.

Charlie nodded. "It's more than okay."

Dean grinned. "Good, 'cause that's not all."

Her eyes widened as he took her hand and led her back out through the kitchen to the front door. He turned the dial to orange before opening the door into a stone courtyard. It was pretty bare, but Sam could start that vegetable garden he'd always wanted, and Charlie could plant some flowers. That wasn't the biggest surprise, though.

Dean took her across the courtyard and through a door into a small adjoining building. Inside were counters and tables piled with beads and feathers, sequins and faux gemstones. There was a rack holding dozens and dozens of different colored thread spools, and fabric and small wire casings in the back.

Charlie pulled up short. "What- it's a hat shop."

"It's your hat shop," Dean corrected.

Charlie whirled on him, eyes widening even further. " _Mine_?" she squeaked.

Dean couldn't hold back a pleased grin. "Yeah. It won't take you all day to keep the castle clean anymore, so you'll need something else to do. You could sell what you make, or just give them away. Whatever you want. Like I said, it's your hat shop."

Charlie's eyes glistened as she looked around the shop again.

"I don't know what to say," she whispered, clutching her hands up near her throat. "Why would you do this for me?"

"Because you deserve it."

And just like that, her visage shifted back to that of an aged woman, bowed over by years of burdens.

"You're being way too nice," she said, voice crackly.

Dean held back a sigh. He'd figured out how to break the curse, but the nature of it prevented him from telling Charlie outright. He could only hope that love and kindness would nurture the beautiful spirit he knew was within, and eventually set it free.

He put a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Come on, let's go back to the house and I'll make us some lunch."

Charlie offered him a wan smile. "Castiel sure looked like he could use some bacon."

Dean grinned back. "Yeah, he'd like that. And maybe we can make a pie too. It's been too long since I've had a treat like that."

Charlie's smile widened a little. "I can bake you one."

Dean draped an arm around her shoulders. "Awesome."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Thank you guest Kathy again for reviewing!**

* * *

Chapter 5

Castiel watched life in the Winchester castle fall into a new routine with Charlie now officially living with them. Dean still went on hunts, of course, but he was almost always home for dinner every night, even if he then sometimes went out again afterward. Charlie kept the place tidy and cooked for the boys, but that hardly filled her entire day. Sam mentioned planting a garden in the courtyard, so the two of them spent a couple of days working on that. They'd leave the door open so Castiel could listen to their chatter, and it warmed his heart that the two were becoming good friends.

But eventually the garden was set and didn't require as much work, and Charlie finally ventured out to the hat shop Dean had commandeered. It was attached to the courtyard, but not the house, so Castiel wasn't connected to it. Charlie deserved a quiet space all her own, though Castiel wondered if the heating was sufficient over there, or if it was drafty; he didn't want her to catch a cold. Charlie would never say anything, of course, but Castiel watched her comings and goings, and she didn't take her shawl or a scarf with her, so he supposed it was probably okay. For now. Come winter he could offer to share his firewood with her if there was a fuel burning stove or something she could use. And if not, Sam or Dean could get her one.

The door dial clicked to orange a second before the door opened and Charlie came bounding in. She'd gotten a more youthful spring in her step as the days went on.

"I just sold a hat!"

Sam looked up from the counter where he was chopping herbs. "That's great!"

Charlie shook her head, coming over and dropping into a chair. "I can't believe it."

Sam quirked a brow at her. "Why? You used to make hats, didn't you? And people bought them."

"But they didn't know _I'd_ made them," she countered. "This lady saw me finishing up and said it was _exquisite_! She bought it on the spot."

Castiel shook his head to himself. Charlie's spark was alight with growing confidence and pure joy, dispelling some of the curse and putting color into her cheeks and a silver shine in her hair. Not that she noticed. That was part of the curse as well.

Charlie spent another few minutes just basking in delight, but then she straightened and turned to Sam. "Hey, I was wondering, could you teach me a little about potions and elixirs?"

Sam paused in his work. "Um, sure. Do you need something? Because you can just ask…"

"Oh, no, not for me," she replied. "But I was thinking that maybe I could help you manage your business of selling your wares. Customers have declined since we moved, and I'm sure there are a lot of people out there that we could be helping."

Sam's face cracked into a soft smile, and Castiel figured it was due to Charlie's use of the inclusive 'we.' "Yeah, okay. Well, for starters, right now I'm mixing up an herbal tea for…"

Castiel simmered contentedly in the fireplace as he watched Sam go over what he was doing and what it was used for. He was about to drift off into a light doze when a sharp ping jolted him back to full awareness. Dean was in trouble.

"Sam," he warned, switching the dial of the door to black.

Sam glanced over, brow furrowed at his tone, but then his expression blanched with understanding. "How bad?"

"Bad."

Castiel couldn't sense specifics, but he'd felt a violent vibration through Dean's magic, like an injured shockwave. Dean was on his way back, though, so at least there was that…

The door flew open, almost banging against the stair railing. Blackness swirled beyond, the shifting matter of warped time and space. And then a shadow seemed to detach from the inky backdrop, and Castiel's eyes widened as a hunched figure shuffled in. Dean wasn't cloaked in shadow; he was covered in feathers that were spilling down around him like an oversized cape. Mangled wings trailed behind him, dragging across the floor and smearing drops of black unguent that were leaking from…somewhere. Taloned feet scuffed across the wood floor.

" _Dean_ ," Castiel said.

Charlie gasped, shooting her hands up to cover her mouth. Granted, Dean looked hardly human at the moment.

Sam hurried forward and ducked under one of the wings to support his brother. "Dammit, Dean," he muttered. "Cas, heat up the water upstairs."

Castiel sent a burst of power through the pipes so the water would be steaming hot. He couldn't see the extent of Dean's injuries, but the wizard hadn't started turning back to a human, and that was a bad sign. Dammit, Castiel had _told_ him.

Castiel poured his frustration and anger and worry into another power surge, which made the pipes rattle under the pressure.

Sam half carried, half dragged Dean up the stairs and out of sight, which only aggravated Castiel more, because he couldn't do anything to help. All he could do was heat the stupid water.

He finally realized Charlie was still standing in the kitchen, eyes wide and terrified.

Castiel opened his mouth to reassure or comfort her…but found he didn't quite know how to. He wasn't feeling all that reassured himself.

"That was Dean?" she finally whispered.

Castiel grimaced. "Yes. Sometimes he…shape shifts, when fighting monsters."

"Is he going to be okay?"

Castiel hesitated, his heart sinking. "I don't know."

* * *

Sam staggered under his brother's weight, which was heavier than usual with the mass of feathers and other anatomical changes. Sam knew what Dean transformed into sometimes, but whereas Dean always possessed a majestic kind of control of his other form, this time it felt very much like Sam was bracing a feral creature that could snap and turn on him in an instant. Dean hadn't even made an intelligible sound since he'd arrived, bloodied and battered. He'd grunted in pain a few times, and Sam heard what may have been a snuffle.

His brother was more beast than human at the moment.

Sam made it to Dean's room and hauled his brother the rest of the distance to the bed, turning him around and doing his best to ease Dean back onto the mattress. The coverlet would be ruined, but he couldn't worry about that right now.

Sam hurried into the bathroom and cranked the faucet. The water instantly burst out scalding, and he had to add some cold so it wouldn't be too hot for him to handle. There was a bowl on the top shelf above the toilet, which Sam grabbed and filled with the steaming water. He then snatched all the towels off the shelves and rushed back into the bedroom.

Dean was in the middle of his muscles seizing as some of the feathers receded from his face, hands, and feet, restoring at least some of his humanity, and with it some lucidity in his eyes.

"What was it this time?" Sam asked, setting the bowl and towels on the nightstand and then reaching for Dean's shirt to pull it up. It was torn, and in some places Sam couldn't distinguish between tattered fabric and feathers, but he finally got the shirt up, revealing slash marks down Dean's torso. Unfortunately, there were still quills protruding from around the area, which was going to make it harder to patch up.

"Leviathan," Dean answered tiredly. "But I got the bastard."

"Yeah, that's a real consolation," Sam retorted. "Never mind you nearly got eviscerated."

"Only nearly."

"Dammit, Dean, look at this!" Sam said, anger making his pitch rise, and he couldn't quite control the roughness with which he swiped a wet cloth across the wounds. "You can't keep doing this."

Dean's back went rigid and he gritted his teeth against a grunt. "Those monsters need to be stopped," he ground out between pained breaths.

"Not at this cost. Someday _you'll_ become the monster, Dean. And then what, you expect _me_ to hunt you?" Sam shook his head angrily as he continued to wipe away the ichor oozing from the wound. There was barely any red blood, that's how far Dean had gone, and it terrified Sam. He couldn't lose his brother.

Dean flailed his hand weakly as he grabbed Sam's wrist, stilling his ministrations. And Dean flashed him that stupid confident smile. "That won't happen."

Sam scowled at the insensitive dismissal. Despite his brother's prowess, he was _not_ invincible. And what was Sam supposed to do if he lost Dean? What was Cas supposed to do?

"I mean it," Dean said, tone low with all seriousness. "You keep me human, Sammy."

Sam clenched his fists, and focused on cleaning up the rest of the blood. He hated this, hated this tightrope of power and madness his brother walked, all out of an inflated sense of responsibility for the world and everything in it.

The bleeding had finally slowed, which now meant Sam needed to find a way to stitch this. He didn't bother asking if Dean could finish transforming back; he was afraid of the answer.

He stood up to go downstairs to get the med kit, and froze when he spotted Charlie standing in the doorway, staring at them wide-eyed.

"Charlie, um…" Sam glanced over his shoulder at Dean, having no idea how to explain this.

"Can I help?" she asked, cutting him off. And though her voice was tremulous, she met his gaze straight on with utmost sincerity.

Sam hesitated, but decided why not. This was a mess and he could use a second pair of hands. "Sure. I have to go downstairs for the med kit. Will you change out the water and rinse the towels?"

Charlie nodded and moved forward. Her wary eyes never left Dean, but she steadily picked up the supplies and took them into the bathroom.

Sam hurried downstairs to grab the first aid stuff from the kitchen.

"How is he?" Cas asked.

Sam shook his head. "Still with us," he muttered, because that was the most truthful thing he could say.

Cas was quiet as Sam gathered up the supplies and went back upstairs.

Charlie was folding the damp towels and piling them on one another on the nightstand next to the bowl, looking very much a trooper with a half man, half bird mere inches from her. Sam brought the first aid kit over and set it on the bed, then got out the needle and thread he'd need for stitching. He eyed Dean's stomach, still unhappy with the feathers pushing out from the skin too close to the jagged wound. They'd be sensitive, in that mid-transformation state, and any brush of Sam's fingers while he tried to nip and tuck at the torn flesh would cause discomfort, maybe more pain. It made Sam nervous of triggering a fight or flight response in Dean's base instincts, potentially causing him to revert back to full creature in an effort to protect himself.

"Want me to do it?" Charlie asked in a small voice.

Sam started, flicking a look at her.

"I'm good at sewing," she went on. "And I can be…delicate."

Sam was about to say no, that it was too dangerous and she didn't need to subject herself to this kind of horrible thing either, but Dean spoke up quietly.

"It's okay, Sam. I'm not going anywhere."

Like Dean knew exactly what his brother was worried about.

Sam bit his lip as he gave it another thought. He supposed that out of all of them, Charlie _was_ the most qualified. Not only with a needle and thread, but as a hat seamstress, she would have experience working around…feathers.

Sam swallowed hard, but nodded and passed the needle and thread over. Charlie took them in her tiny hands and moved closer to Dean. Sam darted into the bathroom for a step stool she could sit on, and then grabbed one of the wet cloths to be ready to wipe away any blood that might well up during the suturing process. He met Dean's eyes, silently checking if his brother could handle this. Dean returned it staunchly.

Charlie pressed her lips into a determined line and bent her head as she set to work. Her hands were steady and nimble, not hampered by arthritis or stiff joints. It was like her age was receding under the straightforward sense of simply doing what needed to be done—not without fear, but acting regardless of it.

Dean's expression was soft as he watched her as well, and Sam knew they both saw it.

Someday, hopefully Charlie would see it, too.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Thank you guest Kathy for your review here and for "Tangled Web"! Glad to hear you enjoyed that story too. ^_^ One more chapter after this one!**

* * *

Chapter 6

It took only a day for Dean to heal, which Charlie was flabbergasted by. The wound had looked so serious when she'd stitched it up, but Sam had plied Dean with herbal tonics, and two mornings later, he was up and about like it had never happened.

There was still tension in the castle, though. Charlie didn't know why, but she could tell that Sam and Castiel were very unhappy with Dean. She didn't think it was over him getting hurt; they'd both expressed intense worry over that. So it had to be something else.

But whatever it was, Dean seemed to be pointedly ignoring it, and neither Sam nor Castiel brought it up. And Charlie didn't ask.

After a few more days, things settled back into a calm and normal rhythm.

It was Wednesday, and Charlie and Sam went out to the market to buy fresh meat and produce for the week. Their garden was already growing lots of vegetables, thanks to Sam's green magic, but they didn't have any fruit trees or vines, and pomegranates were in season. Charlie had earned enough from selling a couple of hats to pay for the higher priced delicacy, and so she decided to treat them all. She also wanted to pick up some fresh apples to make a pie for Dean. He was getting a little spoiled with those, but Charlie enjoyed baking them. And Castiel seemed to enjoy getting the rind as a treat as well.

She had just finished paying for a small carton of apples when a flash of black caught her peripheral vision. Charlie snapped her head toward it, but in the next instant of passing crowds, the figure was gone. She craned her neck up and to the sides, trying to spot them again.

"Charlie, what is it?" Sam asked, coming up next to her.

"Oh, nothing. I just thought I saw…" She gave herself a sharp shake, feeling silly. "I thought I saw the Witch of the Waste," she admitted.

Sam immediately stiffened. "Where?"

Charlie pointed vaguely. "But she's gone. If she was there at all. I'm probably just imagining things."

Though she hadn't had a second encounter with the witch since being cursed, Charlie was still terrified of the woman. Although, she wasn't prone to jumping at shadows, either. She'd probably only glimpsed someone who looked _similar_ to the witch.

Sam's mouth was pressed into a thin line as he scanned over the crowd's heads. "Maybe we should head home," he suggested. "You get everything?"

She nodded. "Yeah." And she could see in his basket that he'd picked up the eggs and fish, so, really, they were done shopping.

Sam put a protective hand against the small of her back as they made their way through the throng and away from the market. Just as they turned off the crowded street, streams of darkness shot out of nowhere, straight toward them. Charlie barely had time to scream, but Sam dropped his basket and threw his arms up. The black smoke crashed into a scintillating shield of shimmering yellow and orange.

Charlie watched in growing horror as the fog retreated, and then the Witch of the Waste stepped through the fumes.

"Hello, Sam."

She whipped her hand out toward them, and black lightning erupted from her fingers. Sam's magical bubble repelled the attack with a crack and ripple of light, but Sam flinched.

He cast a quick glance over his shoulder. "Charlie, run!"

She hesitated, not wanting to leave him. But she'd be too slow, so of course Sam had to give her a head start while he held off the Witch of the Waste. And Charlie didn't have any magical powers.

So though her heart screamed in protest, she turned and ran, casting the weight of her basket aside and sending apples scattering across the cobblestone. She ran straight for the hat shop, ignoring the startled cries of people she nearly barreled into.

"Where's the fire, grandma?"

She didn't even think of calling a constable for help. They weren't equipped to deal with the Witch of the Waste any more than she was.

Charlie was winded by the time she made it back to the house, and she nearly collapsed once she pushed her way through the door.

"Charlie?" Castiel exclaimed in alarm.

"Sam's fighting Amara," she blurted out between labored breaths.

Castiel's eyes flared wide. " _What_?"

Footsteps clamored down the stairs as Dean practically flew into the kitchen. "Where?" he demanded.

"Taft Street, just outside the market."

Dean barely stopped long enough to hear the answer and stormed toward the door. "Stay here."

And then he was gone.

Charlie went to the door and looked out, but of course he'd disappeared, like he'd simply taken flight straight out of the courtyard. Heart still racing, she quickly shut the door and locked it. Castiel could open it for the brothers when they came back. And hopefully the lock would keep the Witch of the Waste out…

Charlie wrung her hands together as she started pacing the kitchen, praying Sam had gotten away and he and Dean would be right back any moment.

"Castiel, can the Witch of the Waste track me through…" She cut off before she could start choking. "You know? Did I lead her to Sam?" she asked fretfully.

"No, that's now how it works," he replied. "Amara is always searching for Dean. And she has spies. This isn't your fault, Charlie."

She turned away so Castiel wouldn't see the tears forming. It was her fault, in a way. Sam was only trying to protect her. If she hadn't been there, he could have run, or fought back, or done something other than just stand there with a shield hoping Amara wouldn't break through it.

Half an hour went by, then another. Charlie watched the hands of the clock tick, tick, tick and the rays of sun through the window travel across the floor. And still neither of the Winchesters had come back. Castiel began fidgeting in the fireplace, looking just as worried as Charlie felt.

Finally, after two and a half hours, Charlie couldn't take it anymore.

"I'm going after them," she declared.

"You're not a witch," Castiel protested. "You can't fight that level of power."

Charlie bit her lip, but then turned toward him. "Can you? You're a powerful fire demon, right?"

Castiel hesitated. "Yes, but…I've never left the castle. I'm not even sure I can."

"What do you mean? What would happen if you tried to leave?"

"I don't know."

"Then what are we supposed to do?" Charlie exclaimed desperately. "Dean and Sam are in trouble."

Cas flickered uncertainly, but nodded. "You should take me with you."

Now it was Charlie's turn to hesitate. "Are you sure?"

"Like you said, Sam and Dean are in trouble. We have to help them."

She drew her shoulders back. Okay, they could do this. She may not have any magical powers, but she'd learned a bit about potions to ward off evil magic, and so she grabbed a couple of vials off the shelf and pocketed them. Then she retrieved the shovel to lift Castiel out of the hearth.

"Careful," he said nervously as she scooped him out. "And you should take me out last, just in case."

Charlie didn't want to ask just in case what. It didn't matter at this point. But she carefully turned around to back out first, and then brought out the shovel with Castiel. As soon as he crossed the threshold, the house gave a creak and a groan, and then the inside was warping and collapsing in on itself. Charlie jumped back as a wave of darkness splashed down, and then all that was left was an empty ruin with crumbling walls next to the courtyard.

She gaped in horror. "Oh my god, the castle…"

"I was worried this would happen," Castiel said gravely. "Without me powering the castle, the various doors can't be maintained. The castle is still intact, but it's in the Wastes. We can't get back in this way."

Okay, so that meant she hadn't just destroyed their home. That was good.

"I can sense Dean," Castiel went on. "Head north."

Charlie turned and hurried through the courtyard, into the hat shop, and out onto the street. It was quite awkward trying to keep up a quickened pace with a shovel in her hands. Fortunately, there was no one around to see her carrying a fire demon. A harsh gale had picked up and dark, roiling storm clouds were billowing overhead, so it seemed everyone had retreated indoors for shelter.

Castiel directed Charlie through the streets to the edge of town—right into the gathering storm. But that's where he said Dean was, so Charlie sucked in a deep breath, and headed into the wild.

* * *

Dean formed a crackling ball of blue plasma in his palm and threw it at Amara. She swung an arm up and deflected it, the energy ball striking a tree instead and exploding a few branches into splinters. She swept her other arm around at the same time, shooting black lightning back at him.

Dean threw both arms up in front of him, crossing his wrists, to shield it, but the impact knocked him back a step. He didn't know how long they'd been exchanging blows, barely touching each other, but he was slowly weakening.

"Enough!" he shouted. "Where is my brother?"

Amara gave him a simpering moue. "Will you give yourself up in exchange for him?"

Dean gritted his teeth. "I want to see he's still alive."

He knew he couldn't surrender to Amara; it wasn't just his life at stake if he did, plus he doubted her word that she'd let Sam go. But he also had to save his little brother, no matter what.

Amara considered him for a long moment, then waved her hand. Smoke billowed up off to the side of them, and when it dissipated, Dean saw Sam strung up with black thorny vines like a scarecrow. His chin was dipped forward, eyes closed, and the vines writhed and squirmed around him like living entities.

Dean clenched his fists, struggling with the urge to rip Amara's heart out. But as much as he wanted to be rid of her once and for all, he knew they were evenly matched and he didn't have the advantage. No, his best shot was to grab Sam and flee.

With a whoosh of power, Dean surged forward, arms transforming into wings so he could fly straight at his brother and snatch him out of the vines. But the moment his sharp talons raked at the thorns, they snapped up and around him, lashing across his legs and wings. Dean flapped and flailed to break away, but they were stronger, the barbs digging into his flesh and quickly immobilizing him.

He tried to shift back into a human, to slip free of the vines when the wings slurped back down to small arms, but Amara shot a hand out toward him, and black fog swirled up and around, clogging his throat and eyes and disorienting him enough for the vines to readjust their hold. His arms were yanked out to the sides and his feet dragged to the ground until he was in the same position as Sam.

Amara laughed lightly as she stalked closer. "Finally, after all this time, Dean Winchester's heart is mine."

He struggled, clenching his jaw as the thorns sliced into his flesh, but he was fully ensnared. Amara came right up to him and reached out a hand to trail lightly down his cheek. Dean's stomach churned with revulsion.

Her gaze shifted down, and Amara pressed her hand to his chest. Dean stiffened automatically.

But then Amara frowned. Her fingernails dug into his sternum, and he bit back a grunt of pain as he felt her magic probing deep into his rib cage. She hissed. "How can this be? Where is your heart?"

Dean glowered at her. "Bite me."

Amara's fingers crooked tighter, tearing through fabric and drawing blood. "Where is it?"

Dean smirked at her through the pain. "Somewhere you'll never find it."

She shook her head in growing agitation. "No. No, your heart _will_ be mine!" she shrieked.

She threw her head back and spread her arms, and lightning split the air. Black clouds instantly rolled in, blanketing out the sky and sun. Dean shivered as a glacial wind bit at his exposed flesh, and his insides quivered under the oppressive aura of the dark magic Amara was summoning.

And there was nothing he could do to stop her.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Thank you guest Kathy for reviewing again! Here we'll get the answer of where Dean's heart is...**

* * *

Chapter 7

Charlie ran through the woods as fast as she could without dropping Castiel. The wind whipped around her, tugging at her skirt and tossing her hair across her face so that she could barely see. Castiel seemed to be trying to duck down low in the bottom of the shovel to shield himself from the hurricane like gales. Charlie suddenly had the horrified thought of what would happen if it started raining.

Lightning forked across the sky, and static tingled along her skin. The air was thick with the cloying scent of musky magic.

They finally barreled into a clearing, and Charlie skidded to a stop at the sight of Sam and Dean strung up in thorny vines. The Witch of the Waste was there, too, clasping Sam's unconscious face in a bruising grip.

"Tell me where it is or I'll start peeling flesh off his bones," Amara said to Dean, who was hanging heavily in the vines and panting.

"Hey!" Charlie shouted before she could think better of it.

Amara turned toward her, arching an unimpressed brow. "Well, look at you. Still plucky."

Charlie tensed, and leaned down toward Castiel. "Um, now what?" she whispered.

Castiel stretched himself tall and flared his flames with a whoosh. "Dean!"

Dean's eyes suddenly lit up with azure light, and with a raging roar, he snapped the vines holding him in place.

Amara stared at him in shock.

Castiel's fire surged again, and Dean shot a blue bolt of lightning at the wicked witch. It hit her square in the chest and sent her flying back several feet to hit the ground with a thud. Dean then hurried to Sam and started tearing at the vines with hands wreathed in blue fire.

"Sam? Sammy, come on." Dean held a glowing hand over his brother's face, pushing some of that aura into Sam. Cas radiated the same color.

Sam moaned and his eyelids started to flutter. "D'n?" he slurred. He blinked rapidly, his gaze gradually focusing, and then his eyes widened. " _Cas_?"

"Just hurry," Castiel called.

Charlie flicked a nervous glance to where Amara was struggling to sit up. She shot Dean a furious glare, but then her gaze shifted to Charlie and Castiel, and her expression slackened.

"So that's it," she breathed. "That's where your heart went."

Amara suddenly lunged at Charlie, who shrieked and stumbled backward, dropping Castiel. He let out a startled yelp as he fell, and then Amara was scooping him up, her fingers squeezing around him. His color abruptly flared white and he screamed.

Dean suddenly screamed too and dropped to his knees. Sam was now free, and grabbed his brother's arms to brace him as Dean curled forward.

Amara cackled. "His heart is finally mine!" she crowed.

She clenched her hands even tighter around Castiel, eliciting another high-pitched scream that echoed in Charlie's ears as Dean cried out too. Lightning split the sky directly above their heads with a thunderous boom that vibrated in Charlie's chest. Dean toppled sideways and went into seizures.

Charlie had no idea what was happening, but then Amara opened her mouth wide and lifted Cas's burning form to her lips…and Charlie knew she had to stop the witch from devouring Castiel.

Desperate and panicking, she reached for the only thing she had on her—the potions. Pulling one from her pocket, Charlie uncapped the stopper and flung the liquid at Amara. It splashed over the witch, immediately drenching her.

And Castiel too.

Charlie gaped in paralyzed horror as not only the broiling power, but the fire too, extinguished with a sizzle and trail of smoke.

Amara shrieked. "You ruined it!" She tossed the now darkened lump on the ground and advanced on Charlie with crackling fury.

Charlie scrambled backward, but tripped and landed on her back.

Amara loomed over her. "You wretched little worm!"

"Charlie!" Sam shouted, but he sounded so far away as black smoke began to ooze forth from Amara's pores.

Charlie frantically looked around for anything to help her, and spotted a broken branch with a pointed tip. She snatched it up just as Amara's smoky form began to swoop down on her, and thrust it upward with all her strength. She felt the resistance as the wood plunged through flesh and muscle, piercing the witch's heart.

The oxygen punched from Amara's mouth with a gasp, and her eyes blew wide. She barely had time to glance down at the branch protruding from her sternum before she was falling over. Charlie gave the branch a rough push so that Amara landed away from her, and then she was scrabbling away from the smoke slithering around the body. The noxious fumes billowed over Amara and churned in place, and when they finally diffused away, nothing but a shriveled old hag remained. Charlie could only stare. She supposed that was what it meant for the outside to match the inside.

"Dean! Dean!" Sam's harried voice jolted her out of her stupor, and Charlie looked over to see him cradling his brother's head in his lap. Dean's eyes were closed.

Sam looked around desperately. "Cas!"

Charlie's heart stuttered, and she scrambled to her feet and over to where the lump of coal was on the ground. There was a faint ring of blue around it, the barest simmer of a dying flame.

"Castiel! Oh god, Castiel, I'm so sorry." She scooped him up, chest constricting at the lack of warmth in the contact.

Tiny eyes peered up at her. "You did…what you…had to," he rasped. His spark sputtered. "Dean…"

Charlie cupped him close and carried him over to Sam. "I'm so sorry, Sam. I didn't know what else to do."

Sam's eyes were pained as he gingerly took Cas from her and cradled the fire demon in his large hands. Charlie waited for Sam to infuse a spark back, the way Dean had done when she'd almost accidentally extinguished Castiel in the bucket.

But nothing was happening.

And Charlie remembered with dawning horror what Castiel had told her that day.

 _"If I die, Dean dies too."_

She looked at Dean, lying as still and pale as death. Oh god, she'd killed them both…

"Sam," Castiel whispered hoarsely. "Give Dean his heart back."

Sam stiffened. "Cas, no, then you'll die."

"Dean's dying. This is…the only way…to save him." Castiel's voice petered out with exhaustion, and his flame sputtered again.

Charlie just stared at them in confusion. Give Dean his heart back? What were they talking about?

Castiel gave a weak flutter. "Listen, Sam…thank you. The time we've spent together, has been the best part of my life." His voice cracked. "I love you." Castiel's gaze flicked to Charlie. "I love all of you." He looked back up at Sam. "Tell Dean that for me."

Sam's eyes were wet as he cradled Castiel in his hands. "You're the best friend we've ever had," he choked out.

Fear gripped Charlie's heart. "What's going on?" she demanded.

Sam's throat bobbed as he held Castiel over Dean's chest. The fire demon faded another degree, so that he was barely visible.

"When we were kids," Sam started, voice thick with emotion. "Dean caught a falling star. Usually they burn out within seconds of hitting the Earth, so in order to save it, Dean bonded with the star, giving over his heart so it could stay alive and fueled by its spark."

Charlie's eyes widened. "Castiel," she breathed.

Sam nodded. "We've been family ever since."

He abruptly thrust his hands against Dean's chest, pushing Cas into it. The faint light flared briefly before what Charlie had mistaken for a lump of coal sank down into Dean's sternum. Then there was a tiny spark a few inches above that, before it winked out with the echo of a whisper.

Tears spilled down Charlie's cheeks. She'd destroyed everything.

Dean's eyes shot open and he bolted upright with a ragged gasp. Sam gripped his arms and held him still.

"Dean!"

"What happened?" He twisted around urgently, pausing when he spotted Amara's body.

"Charlie killed her," Sam said.

Dean's shoulders dropped an inch in relief, and he turned to give her a smile. "Good job, kid."

But Charlie was still crying, and his expression immediately turned concerned, which made her feel worse.

"What's wrong?"

She couldn't even form an answer before he stiffened again.

"Where's Cas?" He started to look around again, but suddenly gasped and clutched his chest. "What the…" His eyes widened, and he shot Sam a panicked, accusatory glare, practically shouting, " _Where's_ Cas?"

Tears were now spilling down Sam's face too. "It was his choice to save you."

Dean started shaking his head. "No, no, no."

"It's all my fault," Charlie blurted. "I brought him out here, and then I threw the potion on him." She broke down into sobs. "I killed him. I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"

Arms wrapped around her and she suddenly found herself being crushed against a warm body.

"It wasn't your fault," Sam said between his own hitched breaths. "You stopped Amara from taking both Dean's heart and Cas. That would have been much worse."

"But Cas is dead."

Another set of arms enveloped her and Sam, holding them both tight.

"He knew what he was doing," Dean whispered shakily, as though he had to convince himself of that as much as them, and he clung to the two of them as he broke down too.

The three of them sat on the cold hard ground, huddled in a crying mess as they grieved the loss of their friend.

A flicker of light prodded at Charlie's closed eyelids, and she managed to blink them open against the sticky tears. Through blurred vision, she saw another glimmer, and another.

Charlie hastily wiped at her eyes and sucked in a gasp when she realized Dean's tears were falling like starlight into his lap. Holding her breath, she watched the tear drops trickle together like water, coalescing into a single shape.

"Um, guys…" she whispered.

She heard two more sharp inhalations as the liquid reformed into a blue fire silhouetted like a tiny person with flickering wings.

"C-Castiel?" Charlie breathed.

"Cas?" Dean echoed desperately.

Castiel looked up at them, and then down at himself, seemingly confused. "I'm alive…"

"I thought you couldn't live without someone else's spark," Charlie said.

"I can't," he replied. "But…then I felt a spark bringing me back." He looked up at them again, face aglow and wings scintillating with iridescent streaks of indigo and sapphire. He smiled with such radiance that Charlie felt the warmth against her skin. "Your spark of love saved me."

Charlie couldn't believe it, and by the looks on Sam's and Dean's faces, they couldn't either. But they burst into delirious laughter and Sam embraced her and Dean again. Castiel flitted out in a hurry before he could be squashed, but quickly alighted on Dean's shoulder.

Dean shook his head. "Let's go home."

Castiel flickered. "Oh. About that…"

"When I took Castiel out of the castle, the door shut down," Charlie explained.

"The castle is back in the Wastes," he finished.

Dean and Sam exchanged a look, but then shrugged.

"Doesn't matter," Dean said.

"As long as we're all fine and together, nothing else matters," Sam added.

Charlie smiled back. She couldn't agree more.

* * *

Charlie put the closed sign in the window of the hat shop and locked up for the evening. She'd made two hats that day and sold five. It was a good day.

She shut off her work light and made her way out the back door into the courtyard with its lush garden. Dean and Castiel had been able to reestablish the door from the castle, so they hadn't lost the shop and garden. Not that Charlie would have minded if they'd had to start over; she was just happy to have them.

She entered the castle and was immediately greeted with the aroma of sizzling meat and spices. Dean was at the counter, stirring a pot of stew and adding more flavor to it. Sam was at the table reading, and Castiel was curled up in a fire ball in the hearth, purring like a cat. He had full range of the castle now, but he liked it there, in the main room with everyone else.

He went hunting with Dean now, and with his help, Dean didn't have to transform into that creature so much anymore, which seemed to make Sam and Castiel happy.

Charlie went to the counter and grabbed a knife and some of the vegetables they'd picked that morning, since Dean never seemed to remember to put enough of those in. As she stood at the sink washing the celery and carrots, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the window. Bright eyes and smooth cheeks were framed by long wavy tresses. And her white hair was vibrant, like starlight.

She didn't miss the red.

Sam made a jibe at Dean that drew a smile from her lips. Charlie couldn't believe how a vicious curse could have turned into the biggest blessing she never could have hoped for—family and a place to belong.

* * *

 **A/N: Another happy ending. ^_^ Thanks to everyone who read, favorited, and reviewed!**


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